


A Night at the Oscars

by sexysigyn



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexysigyn/pseuds/sexysigyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's first nomination for an Oscar presents a wild time for he and his date</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night at the Oscars

       When it came to awards shows, I enjoyed donning a gorgeous gown and being pampered beforehand but I found the actual event tedious. Hours of sitting in uncomfortable folding seats while remaining still so as neither to draw attention to yourself nor to accidently rip the gown so generously loaned by a leading fashion house left me irritable and stiff. Going to the bathroom was an adventure that often required an assistant, dragged along to not only navigate press but to hold your attire as you squat delicately on the porcelain seat. There was no privacy at some of these awards shows. I was looking forward to ending the night in the suite we had booked on the _Queen Mary;_ regardless if he won that shiny golden statue, he wouldn’t be going home empty handed.

       “Men have it so easy,” I grumbled as Tom scooched past me on his way to the toilet. He smirked as he hurried away, eager to get back before the commercial break. He knew how my attention span made these nearly unbearable; he also knew I attended because how much I loved him. If it weren’t for him, I’d just as soon only attend the more ‘intimate’ theatre awards in London. Sulking, I slumped in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. There was still at least forty five minutes left and the host had only made me crack a smile once and that was more because Tom laughed and I... well, I had to smile at how beautiful he looked.

 _Bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzz bzzzzzzz_ The small clutch purse of rose gold coloured silk vibrated in my lap, startling me. I wouldn’t doubt that it was my mother or some keen eyed friend texting to excitedly inform me that they had spotted me in the audience.

       Instead it was a text from Tom, inquiring what award they were presenting and if the commercial break had ended. “Yes. The host is going on again but I think best set design is up next. You’ve got time.”

       My phone buzzed again. “Good. I’ve got a bit of a problem I need to sort out.”

       “What the hell, Thomas?” I groaned, whispering as I read his text. What problem could possible arise in the men’s room? That scene from _There’s Something About Mary_ came to mind. Yes he was in a hurry but that would just be careless. And painful. “What kind of problem?”

       Whatever I was expecting, it was not his response. “I’ve got a boner in the bathroom.” Shoving my knuckles between my teeth, I shook with silent laughter. Good grief. Something indeed did _arise_ in there. “I’d offer to help but evening gowns are not exactly conducive to sneaking into the men’s loo.”

 _Bzzzzzzt bzzzzzzzzzt_ “Damnit, Thomas,” I cursed. I wasn’t truly annoyed but at the front of the room, a tuxedoed man was using his fingers to count down the seconds until the commercial break ended. Getting caught looking at my phone on an international telecast would not be good for the reputation.

       Surreptitiously holding the device in my lap, I typed in my passcode and glanced down. As if to prove his condition, a very clear picture of his erect cock, silhouetted against his black trousers was on the screen of my phone.  “Oh my God!” I whispered, much louder than I intended. Embarrassed, I shoved it between my thigh and the seat, several people around me glaring at me. “Much as I’d love to help, I’m afraid you’re on your own with this one.”

       Ten minutes later he slipped back into his seat, just in time for the first of the acting awards to be presented. “Are you feeling better now?” I asked as the presenters took to the stage, the loud entrance music drowning my words out to any eavesdroppers.

       He shifted somewhat uncomfortably, grimacing. “For the time being.”

       I wanted to put my hand on his leg for reassurance, but I was afraid to. His category was rapidly approaching and a relapse of the situation was ill-advised. “Your picture came at a most inopportune time,” I said from the corner of my mouth. Clips featuring the women nominated in the Supporting Actress category were flashing on the massive screens flanking the stage. “The cameras had just started rolling again.”

      “My apologies,” he smirked, taking my hand.

      “You knew exactly what you were doing, bad boy. You know I don’t have the luxury of being able to rub one out in a bathroom stall. Not with needing my stylist to help me lift my gown.”

 _“And now please welcome to the stage to present the award for Best Actor in a Leading Role…”_ echoed the announcer, his deep bass filling the space. Beside me, Tom inhaled deeply and squeezed my hand a little tighter. This was his moment. First Academy Award nomination. Anxieties surged as we listened to the presenter give his speech, paying homage to all the talented men who went before and those who sat in expectancy now. I reached across his lap and took his other hand, grasping them as the camera zoomed in on his face. Despite the carefully cultivated look of anticipation, I saw the tense set of his jaw, the way his cheekbones were even more prominent when he had sucked in his cheeks like now… Nor was his chest rising and falling with the normal rhythm of his breathing. Time seemed to be slowing to a halt. For nearly three and a half hours we had been sitting here waiting for this moment and now it seemed to stretch on infinitely. I was holding on to him for support as much as he was to me.

_“And the Oscar goes to…”_

 

 

 

       “You know you are no longer just Mr. Tom Hiddleston, right?” I teased, scooting as close as possible to his side. As soon as we got in the limo to head to the Governors’ Ball, I had kicked off my shoes and grabbed the Möet chilling on ice, popping the cork and taking a draught straight from the bottle. I did not like how dry champagne is but the occasion called for the bubbly. “You will henceforth be known as Academy Award winner Tom Hiddleston. What a distinction!”

        Staring down at the award, resting on the seat between his legs as he cradled it in two hands with all the tenderness one would treat an infant. “You know I never thought I’d actually win this…” he murmured.

       Raising the bottle to his lips, I tilted it back, smiling as he drank. “You deserve it. You’ve put your body and mind through hell to be the actor you are. You know my personal stand on these awards but,” I set the bottle back in the basin and placed my hands on either his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness of his whiskers as I turned his face toward me. “I am so unbelievably, indescribably proud of you. I could cry I am so brimming with pride, I just can’t keep it all in.”

      “You were crying from the moment my name was called,” he reminded with a smirk.

      “So were you,” I retorted, leaning in for a kiss. “Big manly tears of happiness. You can put him on the shelf to keep your Olivier company. I’ll break out my knitting needles and make a scarf to match Larry’s cap.”

      “A scarf?” he asked, puzzled.

      “My knitting is shit. That’s all I can make. Now tell me: how is your ‘little problem’ after all that excitement? Could little buddy handle it?”

       He groaned at the memory, a primal noise of irritation at being reminded and the sound of a man desperately trying to keep his lust under control. “Steady now.”

       “Oh, once we leave this dratted after party, I intend to do just that. Rocking the boat and all.”

       The car stopped and I patted the side of his face. “Just a few more hours then we can slip out.”

       Suggestively licking his lips, he watched as I pulled my shoes back on and adjusted my cleavage. “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

 

 

       Hobnobbing was not my favorite part of my job. Unless it was people who I found genuinely interesting, I had to force myself to smile and be friendly in an environment as false as Hollywood. In London, the acting community was much smaller and truly felt more like a family. Perhaps it was tied to my personal feelings, those which led to my expatriation, but the glitter and shine was just a gaudy gilt covering to the cesspit that was Los Angeles. Tonight, however, I did not care. Arm in arm with Tom, we were in the midst of the action. Seemingly everyone in Tinseltown was offering their congratulations, clapping his back or pulling him into celebratory embraces. We watched on with excitement as the gold plate on the base was engraved with his name, forever marking that award as his. A roaming photographer captured a shot of the both of us holding Oscar, Tom kissing my cheek as I was laughing at some comment or another. It was a joyous evening and while I knew I was enjoying it because, selfishly, I was attached to the man of the hour, it did not detract from the enjoyment.

       “Come here,” he whispered in my ear, fingers circling my wrist. “There is something I want to show you.”

       Having briefly leaving my side a few minutes before, I had become engaged in a conversation with one of my personal favorite actresses, herself an Academy Award winner and resident of London. I was loath to leave but she patted my arm and assured me that we would meet up for tea once we were back in England, an invitation I looked forward to receiving. She faded back into the mêlée while I followed Tom from the huge hall and toward a stairwell. “Where are we going?”

       “Shhhh. We don’t want to be found lurking around now do we?”

       “This is the Los Angeles Convention Center. I’m sure we will be discovered sooner or later.”

       “Then we better make it quick, hadn’t we?” he said with a wink. I giggled and rolled my eyes.

       “In here,” he directed, pushing open a door and flipping on a light switch. It was a board room of some sort, with a heavy, highly polished wood table and plush green leather chairs. Knowing where this was going, I perched on the edge of the table and crossed my legs as he closed the blinds on the door.

       “Hit the lights,” I urged. “The ambient light from the city in that window will be more than enough.”

       “I told you I didn’t think I could wait until we got back to our room. All the champagne hasn’t helped the situation either,” he stated, advancing on me. I did not respond, only wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my head back, my lips parting. As he sucked on my lower lip, teeth grazing the tender skin underneath, I heard a thud as he set the award on the surface of the table.

       His tongue swept across the lip on which he had been nibbling before intruding on mine, forcing it under mine and pulling it back, encouraging mine into his mouth. My skin prickled as he ran his hands up my legs, the hem of my dress rising higher and higher until he grabbed at the bottom and pulled the front up my thighs. Uncrossing my legs, I hooked my ankles behind his waist and, clinging to him as I was, lifted my backside off the table just enough that he could bunch the many yards of beaded satin and chiffon around my waist. “Just don’t ruin it,” I admonished, pressing my lips to his ear. “Unless you want to pay the £9,000 to buy it, this bitch is rented.”

       “Worth it,” he teased, fingers dancing up the inside of my thigh. “At this point I need you so bad nine thousand quid is nothing.”

       “You’ll think very differently when the bill arrives.”

        I was silenced when one of his long fingers pushed aside the thin layer of lace to lightly trace around already wet my pussy. “It feels like I’m not the only one who has been eagerly waiting for release.”

       “It’s that sext you sent from the bathroom. I’ve been wild with desire since then. Mine is just easier to conceal than your ‘little’ problem.”

       Inserting two fingers into my tight canal, his thumb rubbed my clit, circling around and around, back and forth, sometimes light as a feather and others with more pressure. The muscles in my abdomen contracted and I pulled myself closer to his face, assaulting his lips with ferocity. On the way up here, he had quipped that we needed to make this a quickie; feeling myself rapidly hurdling toward orgasm with every pump of his fingers, every movement of his thumb, I knew those words to be prophetic.

       So caught up in the moment was I that I didn’t even notice he had picked the statue back up until I shivered at the introduction of a cool, hard accessory to replace his fingers. “Tom, no. Don’t you think…” This seemed wrong and completely out of character. We had brought toys with us that were waiting in our luggage at the hotel. Toys for when we had enough time to use them and a quick romp in a conference room at the Governors’ Ball wasn’t that time. Especially if it involved turning his new hardware into a dildo.

      “Shhh. Relax,” he insisted, slowly kneeling down. The smooth head of the statue slid up and down my slit, warming from being pressed against my hot skin. Just as I felt him push it into me slightly, he placed a kiss on my maidenhead, tongue flicking in time to the thrusting of the makeshift toy. I cried out as he sucked and lapped at my engorged folds, lying back on the table, my fingers grazing his scalp as I clutched at his golden-red curls. The small bit of facial hair he had along his jawline and on his chin scratched against the outer flesh of my sex, making me alternately giggle at my ticklishness and moan at the myriad of sensations stemming from the one area.

       Cries beginning to escalate as I felt my climax approaching, he backed away, slowly unfurling from his crouch. I sat up and watched as he, with naked lust in his eyes, licked the head and shoulders of the statue clean, his unblinking stare never wavering from mine. At that moment, he could have told me to cum and I would have spilled all over the polished mahogany surface.

       Setting his Oscar on the floor, he slowly, deliberately wiggled his finger at me, bidding me to slide off the table. “Turn around and bend over,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for me to refuse. Not that I would have wanted.

       Obliging his demand, I bent over the table, resting on my elbows. I wriggled my ass, waiting for whatever he was going to do next. I knew he was making me wait on purpose but when he ran his hands from my knees to my hips, leaving a trail of wet kisses across the rounded curve of my rear, I knew the reward would be worth it.

      “Spread your legs,” he commanded, giving my ass a small slap. I felt the sting as I moved my thighs apart, resting all my weight on the table and off the painful four inch heels I teetered on.

       No sooner had I obeyed than he was driving into me, thrusting down the hilt. I cried out, feeling my cunt expand to accommodate him as over and over he plunged into me, a steady, punishing rhythm. Reaching around, he cupped my chin in his hand and pulled it back, stretching my neck. The ache in my muscles was delicious, just enough tension to mirror the buildup in my core. My whimpers steadily grew louder, more piercing but were truncated by his lips when he leaned forward and kissed me, holding my jaw steady to possess my mouth completely. Compounded with the imminent threat of discovery, I felt any caution I might have ever had vanish when the hand not restraining my face snaked around my hip and down to manipulate my clit. I screamed into his mouth when I hit the zenith of our lovemaking, walls of my pussy clenching around his cock. “That’s it,” he growled against my cheek, the movement of his beard astringent against my skin. “Get on your knees and finish the job.”

       In the wake of my climax, my bones felt like jelly but I slid off the table and to my knees in one fluid motion, briefly awestruck at the sight before me. Clad in his tuxedo, his bowtie was undone and pants unzipped, his cock, so slick and wet from my arousal, proud and erect, practically throbbing with imminent release. My right thumb and pointer finger forming a ring around the base of his shaft, left hand massaging his balls, I licked up the underside and swirled my tongue around the tip, gently sucking as I gradually took him all the way into my mouth until I felt the head tickle the back of my throat. Grunting, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and braced himself against the table, fucking my mouth mercilessly. Maintaining eye contact, I watched him bite his lip and grit his teeth as his thrusts faltered and the salty warmth of his seed streamed down the back of my throat.

       Yanking on my hair, he pulled me to a standing position where he kissed me again, tenderly as if to soothe me after the rough pounding my face had just taken. “I told you I wouldn’t ruin the gown,” he teased, eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckled.

       “I told you not to ruin it; you just said running the gown would be worth it. Was it?”

       He glanced over at the Oscar for a leading role, now marooned on the carpet after becoming merely a supporting act in our tryst. The blank face of the little man seemed to reassure us that our dirty little secret was safe with him. I laughed out loud as the realization struck me.

      “What’s so funny?” Tom asked as I pressed my face into his lapel, quaking with amusement.

      “Our first threesome was with a ninety year old bald guy named Oscar. _Of course_ it would have been worth it!”

 


End file.
